


Remember to Try

by Raven_Knight



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Character Study, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Italian Food, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 17:07:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7231252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_Knight/pseuds/Raven_Knight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To all who know him, James T. Kirk’s devotion for Spock is unmistakable, except for Spock himself. After the Fal-tor-pan ritual on Vulcan, Kirk did not expect Spock to forget so much of their life together. He did not expect to lose so much of his husband when he risked everything to restore him to life. While Spock desperately tries to remember, Kirk learns that he must remember to try, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remember to Try

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place directly following The Search for Spock. There are some direct quotes used within this story from both The Search for Spock and The Voyage Home.
> 
> Thank you for reading. Enjoy! ~ RK

 

“The pain you currently experience will diminish in time,” the white-robed Vulcan informed him clinically. “I would advise you to maintain as much distance as possible between you both until your mind settles.”

Kirk could barely breathe. He felt adrift. No. Worse than that. He felt stranded, lost in a barren, blistering sea of red sands as a wind storm approached in the distance. As he collapsed to his knees, unable to hold himself upright from the mental pain he endured, he felt the sting of the sand blown around him, harshly eroding his outer strength to leave him raw and exposed. Vulnerable. He tried to call for help, but in this empty desert, no one could ever possibly hear him. Kirk’s legs wouldn’t obey his command to run to safety or shelter. When he looked down he realized why he couldn’t move. The sand had covered his legs, locking him there.

“Your name is Jim,” he heard the familiar voice of his bondmate calling for him. But he could not see him anywhere. The sand blew around him too heavily.

“Spock!” he cried, knowing it to be a futile effort. He would never be heard over this storm. Kirk tried to raise his hands to his mouth to amplify his voice, but, like his legs, his arms refused to obey his wishes. The sand had risen to his collarbone, effectively trapping him where he stood. Kirk realized the horror of his situation.

He would be buried alive, lost among the endless sands of the Vulcan desert. Forever separated from his bondmate, his husband. “Spo—”

Darkness. Pressure. Suffocation.

“Jim.”

Kirk opened his eyes with a gasp, coughing around the choking sand that wasn’t truly there. A hand planted itself on his breastbone and pushed him back down on his bed. “Easy, Jim, easy.”

“Bones?” he rasped around the dryness of his throat. “What—”

“What happened?” McCoy finished the question for him as he offered a glass of water to Kirk. “You did something that could have severely and negatively affected your mental and emotional health without first consulting your doctor, that’s what happened.” He waited until Jim had swallowed one gulp of water before he spoke again. “What were you thinking, Jim?”

Kirk lowered the glass as he half-heartedly glared at his close friend. That glare quickly faded when he recognized concern in McCoy’s expression rather than the irritation he’d expected to find there. “I’m not entirely sure, Bones.” He stalled by taking another sip. “I just know that it felt like the right decision at the time.”

“And now that it’s done?” McCoy asked. “Was it still the right choice?”

Kirk stared into the water, watching the liquid sway in the glass as his hand holding it trembled. “It has to be.”

 

_“You must be patient, Kirk,” Sarek advised firmly, his tone forbidding everything except obedience._

_He barely heard Sarek’s words. The events of the last several days had finally caught up to Kirk. After the fal-tor-pan, or refusion of Spock’s body and katra, had been successfully completed, all of the adrenaline wore off and his spirit finally crumbled in overwhelmed exhaustion. “I’ve lost everything. My ship, my command, probably my career, my_ son _.” His voice broke on that final word. David was dead. His son, a man grown that he’d only just begun to know, had been murdered on the very planet that had revived Spock’s body. Kirk swallowed his nausea at the thought as his own needs, for a change, took precedence in that moment. “I kept going because_ you _gave me hope that I could get Spock back.” Sarek’s expression did not alter whatsoever under Kirk’s accusing glare. “Now he’s here, he’s alive, but he’s farther away from me than ever because he doesn’t remember. He’s just as lost to me as I am to him.”_

_The Lady Amanda Grayson, wife to Sarek, and mother to Spock, reached out with her soothing voice as effectively as if she had taken Kirk’s hand between her own in comfort. “You haven’t lost him, Admiral Kirk. My husband told me that Spock knew your name before anyone else. You were the first thing he recognized from his past without anyone prompting him or telling him. Everything else will come with time. Spock will remember.”_

_Kirk sighed hopelessly. “What if he doesn’t?” he asked, putting voice to the question he dreaded most. “What if he never remembers?”_

_Silence answered him. For his entire life, Kirk had managed to find the best possible outcome to any bleak situation. It enabled him to creatively solve the Kobayashi Maru test. But now, this question proved to be one he could not solve in a way that could be viewed acceptably by all, or at least by most, parties. Everyone would lose no matter how he answered this question. “I’ve been thinking about that question for the last few days,” he confessed to Spock’s parents._

_Sarek caught the unspoken words before Amanda did. “What have you concluded, Kirk?”_

_Kirk closed his eyes, reluctant to speak the words, but knowing he had no choice. “How long would it take to arrange for me to consult with a Vulcan healer?”_

_Amanda frowned. “For Spock you mean?”_

_Kirk choked on his voice. Sarek had no such hindrance. “My wife, I believe he means for himself.” Kirk confirmed the Ambassador’s conclusion with an unintended sob. “May I ask why you would request the services of a healer?” He phrased it as a question, but Kirk heard the demand for an answer in Sarek’s manner of speaking._

_“I want a healer to sever the bond between me and Spock.”_

_Amanda gasped, horrified at his words. Sarek froze in his seat, but he recovered quickly. “My wife, you are distressed. Please leave us and seek rest in our chambers.” Amanda nearly failed to contain her sadness and shock as she stood. Sarek halted her departure a moment longer by offering her his hand, his index and middle fingers extended towards her. She mimicked the gesture and touched her extended fingers to his, the sensation of contact between them immediately calming her enough to breathe deeply again. “I will come to you shortly,” Sarek promised her. She nodded, reined her volcanic emotions in as much as possible, and gracefully left the room._

_Sarek fixed his eyes on Kirk, who gazed back with equal sternness and determination. “The severance of a bond is not a thing to propose lightly,” he warned Kirk. “I presume you have contemplated all other options available to you before deciding upon this dangerous course of action.”_

_“Why is it dangerous?”_

_“Just as the fal-tor-pan presented a danger to your Doctor McCoy, the destruction of a mating bond is not without its own respective dangers. It is unknown how a non-Vulcan would react to such an event.”_

_Kirk tilted his head in interest. “What happens to Vulcans, then?”_

_Sarek nodded graciously to Kirk. “In many cases, a Vulcan enduring a forcibly severed bond must be seen by a healer to make certain that their newly unbonded katras can withstand the loss of their connection.”_

_Kirk swallowed. “And if they can’t withstand it?”_

_“Possibilities range from being mentally and telepathically incapable of future bonding to one’s death.”_

_Kirk slowly nodded, trying to muster an optimistic grin. “Then it’s a risk I’ll have to take.”_

_Sarek studied Kirk before expressing his concern. “If you do this, you will be placing an unnecessary hardship on yourself and on Spock.”_

_Kirk shook his head. “And keeping him in a bond he doesn’t even remember isn’t a hardship? Not just for me, but for him, too. I can’t do that to Spock.” He gave Sarek the chance to reply, but the Vulcan remained silent. His eyes, however, asked him for further explanation. How to explain this to a logical Vulcan, a member of a species that depended on their bonds to thrive in health? To Sarek, what Kirk proposed probably seemed like spousal desertion. He decided to start there. “I’m not abandoning Spock. I don’t think I could ever abandon him. But I won’t keep him tethered to me, to someone he doesn’t know, and thus someone he feels obligated towards. What if he realizes that he doesn’t want a bond between us now? If it’s already there, then Spock wouldn’t walk away from that. He’d stay with me because we’re already bonded, not because he truly wants to stay with me. I’d rather him have that choice than not to give him that option to choose me again.”_

_Sarek exhaled slowly through his nose, turning his gaze to his folded hands which rested on the table between them. “If that is your decision, my son, then I will see to the arrangements you seek.”_

_Kirk smiled sadly at the term of address. “I won’t be your son anymore.”_

_Sarek looked back to him. “You have sacrificed everything you hold dear in exchange for the possibility of restoring Spock’s katra to his body. You brought my son back to me and she who is my wife. It is a debt that I cannot repay. For that, you will always be considered my son, whether you are Spock’s mate or not.”_

_Kirk had no idea how to respond to such a decree. Sarek’s words stole any response he may have given. Should he thank him? He vaguely recalled that Vulcans considered thanks as unnecessary. He couldn’t think of anything to say. But his level of discomfort rose by the second as he remained seated across from Sarek. He had to be alone. Kirk stood and managed to say only a few words before he fled back to the other stranded members of his crew. “Please arrange a meeting with a healer at your earliest convenience.”_

Sarek sent word that his attempts had failed. He had gone to Earth shortly after Kirk’s appointment with the healer, during which his mating bond to Spock had been severed. The experience had exhausted and taxed Kirk’s mind more than had been anticipated. Because of this, Kirk had been placed under observation by several healers since the procedure. He had been ordered to rest and to do nothing physically or mentally strenuous. The most important instruction Kirk received was that he must not contact Spock until the broken bond between them had stabilized.

Two days following the severance of Kirk and Spock’s bond, an urgent message from Starfleet Command had arrived, demanding that Admiral Kirk immediately report to Starfleet Command to stand trial for his recent actions. Sarek, aware that Kirk required time to heal from his ordeal, departed for Earth for the purpose of either delaying the trial or, at best, to speak on Kirk’s behalf and thus permit the admiral reasonable time to recover. He had not succeeded.

That being the case, it seemed Starfleet’s demand still needed an answer.

Only yesterday, Kirk had made his choice to report as ordered and stand trial for his actions. He did not wish to decide for his crew. Therefore, he called all of them together to vote on how each of them would respond to Starfleet. Mister Scott, Chekov, Sulu, Uhura, and Doctor McCoy all responded identically. “Aye, sir.” The vote was unanimous. Kirk had gone past each of them in line, giving them all the opportunity to accept or refuse to go to Earth. He did this to give his crew members that small freedom of choice. He also conducted the vote for a selfish reason.

He wanted them to see that despite what they’d all gone through recently, despite losing his ship, his son, and his husband, Kirk could still control himself. That he still had the capability to lead them. That what they’d endured had not broken his spirit. He only hoped that he played his part well and they didn’t see just how devastated he truly felt, how his raw emotions stung and his heart ached.

“Give me one more day, sir,” Scotty had said. Kirk intended to use some of that time by visiting the Lady Amanda while Spock attended his retraining session for the day. She had offered Kirk and his crew nothing but the most genteel of hospitality and the most generous of attention and gratitude. Such kindness deserved special acknowledgement.

He had not expected to look up at the cliffs and see a familiar silhouette on one of the precipices. The sight brought him up short as his heart pounded and a weight settled in his gut. Kirk swallowed the lump in his throat as Spock turned away from him and strode purposefully down the rocks, disappearing behind them. Despite doing everything the Vulcan healers had advised, Kirk did not feel recovered. If he were well, just seeing Spock again in the distance should not be so painful.

He decided that he would visit Lady Amanda tomorrow. But like everything lately, not even that simple conversation had gone according to his plan.

 

The following morning they were ready to make their departure from Vulcan and begin their journey back to Earth and Starfleet Headquarters. Kirk checked in with Uhura, Sulu, Chekov, and Scotty before he decided with absolute certainty that they had no further excuse to delay. He had only one additional farewell to make.

Saavik.

He’d, perhaps naively, hoped that their exchange would be extremely brief. Since his conversation with Amanda, Kirk had been trying to imagine seeing Spock again, to stand near him again. He hadn’t been ready last night, and he only barely thought himself ready that morning. It had taken him weeks, months, to recover from their severed bond. Kirk had spent three months building walls around his emotions, his longing for Spock, his hope that his former mate would remember him, remember them. Kirk made himself the priority in his thoughts and actions during his recovery that Saavik’s words reopened wounds he’d ignored since the disaster on the Genesis Planet. With just five sentences, Saavik destroyed his three months of emotional recovery by informing him about how and why David had been killed. He stood in front of her unable to find his voice, unable to look at her, unable to stabilize his chaotic emotions, and completely unprepared to face the imminent arrival of his re-educated former husband.

A moment later, he heard the hiss of the doors opening. Kirk didn’t even need to look to see who came through the door. He already knew. Saavik only confirmed it with her parting words.

“Live long and prosper, Lieutenant.” Those were the first words Kirk heard Spock say since the day of the fal-tor-pan, three months ago. He knew he had to face Spock sooner than later. No time like the present. He turned, an empty greeting on his lips, but Spock addressed him first. “Permission to come aboard?”

Kirk’s answer came automatically. “Permission granted.” He took Spock in with his eyes. He looked so very much like he had, the same regal carriage, the same irritatingly even and precise haircut, and the same outwardly stoic expression. Spock’s eyes, however, swam with confusion and helplessness that the most rigid of pure logic could not conceal. Kirk realized that both of them experienced identical awkwardness in this first verbal exchange. No matter how much he wanted to respond to that voiceless plea, he knew that to do so would only make Spock’s confusion increase rather than decrease. He looked away, not knowing what to do.

“Thank you, Admiral.”

“Jim,” Kirk corrected without thinking. “Spock, Jim. Don’t you remember?”

With Spock’s reply, Kirk understood that he’d made a mistake. “It would not be proper to address you as Jim while you are in command, Admiral. Also, I must apologize for my attire. I seem to have…misplaced my uniform.” He looked at Spock and felt his heart breaking all over again as it had when he decided to have their bond severed. This is what he’d asked for, wasn’t it? He wanted Spock free from feeling obligated to him, unchained. Kirk admitted to himself that he hadn’t fully comprehended what that entailed. Spock spoke to him as though they were strangers, as though they’d never been intimate, as though they’d never once committed to spending the rest of their lives bound together.

Kirk hadn’t realized that it would mean completely starting over.

This wasn’t totally unfamiliar territory. Spock had returned to him once before and treated him as a stranger during the V’ger crisis. Spock had attempted and failed to achieve Kolinahr, the purging of all emotions. The only difference this time was that during the V’ger crisis, Spock had made the choice consciously and willfully. Despite Kolinahr, Spock had been able to remember their lives together but with stunted emotions. Kirk dealt with that situation and handled it as well as he could. Now, Spock had no memories of their lives together at all, and he had no choice about losing both the recollection and the emotions that accompanied them.

So be it. Kirk would have to deal with this, too.

 

He had not dealt with the situation nearly as well as he’d hoped. Yet another crisis took precedence and caused Kirk to actively avoid it almost entirely. A probe threatened not only the entirety of Earth, but also incapacitated any vessel it encountered on its way to the planet. Spock had logically concluded that the only creature that had the capability to respond to the probe was the extinct Humpback Whale species. This led to the only possible solution: time travel to retrieve one or more whales.

They’d encountered several hurdles within the first few hours of their arrival following their successful time jump. Other than locating potential specimens, their ship’s dilithium crystals gave out and left them on a time crunch of approximately twenty four hours to complete their purpose in Earth’s past while searching for an additional power source that would serve to get them back to their own time. Even if they successfully located the whales, they needed to transport them safely, which required an aquarium. That was where Scotty came in. With time being of the essence, Kirk made the decision for them to split into teams. Scotty, McCoy, and Sulu had the responsibility of constructing the aquarium for the whales. Uhura and Chekov were assigned to hunt for nuclear power, with Spock’s direction to search specifically for naval vessels, which utilized the power that their own ship required. That left Kirk and Spock to seek out the whales.

The healers had advised Kirk to stay away from Spock until they both recovered from their broken bond. But he couldn’t. Spock’s very essence would always draw Kirk to him in ways that Kirk couldn’t understand or possibly resist. Even without their bond, even before they were joined, Kirk considered the well-being of his crew as his responsibility. This had been the same for Spock before their bonding, and it remained true now. He would not abandon him, and he would do his best to keep Spock from harm.

In some ways, Spock remained very much the same. He interpreted words and phrases very literally. In the past, Spock would feign ignorance to hear the explanation of the strange phrases Humans used in their speech. Since the fal-tor-pan, Spock did not pretend. He asked for clarification with complete sincerity and puzzlement. He used to tease his Human shipmates about their language and idiosyncrasies. Now, he wanted to learn more about them because he truly did not know. Yet, Spock still had his logic, and he still solved problems and overcame situational difficulties by implementing the logical and most efficient solution.

Which is why Kirk shouldn’t have been as surprised as he had been when he gazed into the whale tank and saw Spock swim directly up to one of the animals and immediately initiate a mindmeld. He’d gone after their guide up the stairs in her urgency to confront Spock. Kirk wanted to protect him, to keep him out of trouble. He would never be able to explain Spock’s alien physiology to the law enforcement officials in this paranoid culture. He’d only just gotten Spock back. Nothing would make him leave his side again.

Unless Spock asked it of him.

This possibility made him clutch the pizza box tighter. Spock _could_ ask him to leave.

With a heavy sigh, Kirk thought back on the day he’d spent in San Francisco with Spock as they made their way to the Cetacean Institute. Kirk’s own words to Spock haunted him. _“Spock, don’t call me ‘Admiral.’ You used to call me ‘Jim.’ Don’t you remember? Jim?”_ He’d explained profanity to Spock. _“Nobody pays any attention to you unless you swear every other word.”_ Within the hour, Spock had tried to make his point with Gillian Taylor as she confronted him about his swimming escapade by inserting the phrase “the hell” in his explanation. As they walked back towards Golden Gate Park, Kirk had nothing positive to say to Spock.

 _“About those colorful metaphors we discussed? I don’t think you should try using them. You haven’t quite got the knack of it.”_ In a way, he’d called Spock inadequate.

 _“It’s not always necessary to tell the truth.”_ Spock could easily have misinterpreted this. Kirk had always valued Spock’s honesty. It was one quality about the half-Vulcan that made Kirk rely on his judgment when Spock had been his first officer. An untrustworthy officer became an unreliable one to Kirk.

 _“You could exaggerate. You’ve done it before. Can’t you remember?”_ Spock had responded in the negative. He couldn’t remember. It had been the third time since they left Vulcan that Kirk had asked the question. _“Don’t you remember?”_ Then came a moment that saddened and frustrated Kirk. Gillian asked them if they liked Italian food. _“I love Italian,”_ he’d answered. Then, he firmly reminded Spock, _“And so do you,”_ despite his former bondmate’s emphatic denial of preferring Italian cuisine. Spock clearly heard the same question Kirk had repeatedly asked him since their first conversation in months aboard the captured Klingon vessel. _“Don’t you remember?”_ To make things worse, Spock had capitulated immediately and meekly, the apology clear in his voice as he amended his answer to Gillian’s question.

Spock had reacted like he feared Kirk’s reaction if he displeased him again, if he did not agree with Kirk, or if Kirk decided that Spock had failed some kind of sadistic memory test. Yes, Kirk knew he was frustrated with Spock’s inability to remember, but that was no reason to take out that frustration on Spock. He may not be abandoning Spock, but he wasn’t doing a very admirable job in supporting him or being patient with him either. In fact, Kirk wondered if his behavior would only make Spock withdraw even more from him.

Would he be able to walk away if Spock wanted that? He would have to. On Vulcan, Kirk had decided to release Spock from the obligation of staying with him. If Spock found Kirk’s company dissatisfying, then Kirk would have to accept it and move forward from there, no matter his own feelings on the matter.

But all of that would have to wait. He’d learned vital information that night during his aborted dinner with Gillian. The whales were being sent away by noon the next day. The tank construction would have to be completed quicker, and their new power supply needed to be installed even earlier than originally planned. Kirk placed the pizza box aside in the transporter booth and discussed these time-sensitive concerns with Spock as Scotty and McCoy worked on the aquarium.

_“The probabilities are that our mission would fail.”_

Something in Kirk snapped and the words found his voice before he could think or stop them. “You’re talking about the end of every life on Earth. You’re half-human! Haven’t you got any god-damn feelings about _that_?” He angrily strode from the cargo bay, at first hearing Spock’s footsteps follow him, but then only his own sounded on the deck plates.

Kirk licked his lips and inhaled deeply through his nose, then exhaled slowly through his mouth. It was a cruel thing to say, spoken in an explosion of built up frustration. The fight left him quickly and he went back to the pizza box he’d stashed when Spock had beamed him back aboard. He opened it and surveyed the dinner he and his crew would have to share. Gillian had ordered mushrooms, pepperoni, and extra onions on this meal. That would not do for Spock. With deliberate care, he peeled off the pepperoni slices from one section of the pizza and distributed them to the rest of its surface. Spock didn’t eat meat. It was the least he could do to apologize for his controlling, frustrated, and unintentionally abusive behavior.

“Did that make you feel better?”

Kirk frowned at the pizza rather than look at his friend. “Not now, Bones.”

“When we left Vulcan, I thought someone had to keep an eye on Spock. Perhaps I should have been watching you a little more closely.”

“I said not now, Bones.”

McCoy walked to his side. “And when is a better time for you? Before or after you drive Spock out of your life single-handedly? I know you’re frustrated, Jim. We all are. No one lost more when he died than you did.” Kirk opened his mouth, but McCoy, in a rare gesture, grabbed him by the arm. “I’m not finished, Admiral,” he barked. “Did it ever occur to you that Spock might be trying to reconnect with you just as much as you’re trying to set him free?” The question made Kirk freeze. “Do you realize what you’ve been given? You could have lost him forever the moment he went into that radiation chamber, but by some crazy Vulcan voo-doo and science I can’t even explain, you didn’t. You have another chance to fix what went wrong, what’s going wrong now, and I don’t want to see you waste it, Jim.” McCoy sighed. “A few years ago, you told me that you need Spock. I don’t think you’ll ever stop needing him. So why would you go through so much effort to prove to someone, yourself or Spock, that you don’t need him?”

Kirk’s eyes moistened. McCoy was absolutely correct. He’d needed Spock before, and he needed him now. “What if he decides he doesn’t need me?”

McCoy didn’t respond right away. He occupied his time to think by selecting a piece of the pizza, purposefully choosing the one with a few extra mushrooms. “I doubt he’d ever think that. But he is confused right now.”

“Because I keep pressuring him about things he can’t remember.”

McCoy shook his head. “No,” he countered. “Because he’s reaching out to you and you keep pushing him away. He’s trying, Jim. The question is, why aren’t you?”

The question motivated Kirk to act. He had no actual plan, but that approach had served him well in the past. He snatched up the pizza box, left McCoy behind in the transporter booth, and went in search of Spock. He found him quickly, seated alone on a storage container in a far corner, away from where Scotty continued to work, but observing the other man attentively and with interest. Kirk’s steps slowed as he saw the open curiosity in Spock’s expression. McCoy was right. Spock had been trying to reach out to his human companions in a human way, but because it was atypical of the Spock they knew, Spock found his efforts rejected. Kirk struggled to rein in his emotions. How lonely must Spock feel?

Kirk nudged another crate with his foot until he managed to position it close enough to Spock to indicate a request for company yet being respectful of personal boundaries. “May I?”

“As you wish, Admiral.” For the first time since Spock’s revival, Kirk did not correct him. He knew Spock noticed when the Vulcan turned to him nervously.

He chose deliberately not to mention it. “I brought back some dinner for us.” Spock leaned closer without leaving his seated position as Kirk revealed the box’s contents. “It’s pizza.” He saw the question in Spock’s eyes. “Some kind of dough with tomato sauce and cheese,” he clarified, then pointed out the section without the pepperoni. “I took off the meat from here for you, so you could—”

Spock delicately lifted the meatless piece from the box and sniffed it carefully. “Thank you, Admiral.”

Kirk tried to smile. “You’re welcome, Spock.” He watched Spock take his first experimental bite, then remembered that he’d neglected Mister Scott’s share of dinner. He stood and casually left the box near his brilliant engineer, but not without removing his own piece. Looking forward to this culinary adventure, Kirk went back to his crate near Spock, intending to share their first meal together even if the air between them pulsed with awkward tension. He had to try. He had to fix this rift between them.

He froze as he immediately recognized that Spock’s posture indicated something negative. “Spock?”

“This is Italian?”

Kirk slowly sat down on the storage crate, answering carefully. “Yes.” He looked at the half-eaten piece of pizza in Spock’s hand.

Spock tensed as if fearing Kirk’s reaction. “I do not like it.” He didn’t know how to react. His mind raced trying to come up with the right thing to say, and lamenting that he had not had this much trouble speaking with Spock in years. “I am sorry, Admiral.”

“What?” Kirk asked. “Why are you sorry?”

Spock sighed quietly. “When Doctor Taylor asked us if we enjoyed Italian cuisine, you informed her that you did.” Kirk felt sick, knowing what Spock would say next. “And then you told me that I did as well.”

“Spock—”

“Perhaps I am in error. Perhaps I do indeed enjoy it. Yet I cannot understand why that would change now, why I do not enjoy it now. The fact remains that I do not like what I have sampled.” Spock hung his head in regret, miserably. “I do not remember.” Spock’s voice shook and something broke in Kirk at the sound of it. “I wish I could remember everything, but I cannot. I cannot remember addressing you as ‘Jim,’ yet I know that is your name. I knew that was your name on Mount Seleya. But I do not remember ever referring to you by that name. I do not remember what happened to my duty uniform. I do not remember a single time in which I have ever exaggerated anything, despite contemplating it since I returned to this ship.” Kirk’s fleeting hunger disappeared the moment he saw a tear escape Spock’s eye to land on the soft robe sleeve. “There are times when I see what must be a memory in my mind, but it is like I am viewing a holovid of someone else’s life that is not mine. I do not know what is true, what I have experienced, what I have not, who I am to any of you. I do not know who I am, Admiral.” Spock inhaled sharply, desperately reclaiming his emotional control. He cleared his throat. “Forgive me, Admiral, I have—”

“No, Spock, you—” Kirk did not even try to tame his own grief. “You have nothing to apologize for; I do.” Spock looked at him in confusion. “I shouldn’t have pushed you. I shouldn’t have pressured you.” Kirk licked his lips to stall or to swallow his own pride. Even he couldn’t be entirely sure. “I’m sorry.” He waited until he saw the apology register in Spock’s eyes. He gently took the half-eaten pizza from Spock’s loose grip and then stood. “I’ll find something else for you to eat.”

“I do not wish for you to trouble yourself for my—”

“Please,” Kirk interrupted. “Let me.” Spock nodded after a moment’s hesitation.

As Kirk walked towards the Klingon ship’s food synthesizer, McCoy caught his eye from where the older man casually leaned against a support beam. The doctor nodded at him approvingly.

 

They’d made it home to their time, while transporting two humpback whales from Earth’s past and also the cetacean biologist, Gillian, who refused to be left behind as her whales disappeared into the future. They were all rescued from the water next to their sinking commandeered Klingon ship and promptly ordered to report before the Federation Council to answer the accusations against them. Kirk and his crew were at least permitted to return to their homes, under escort, to freshen up and change into their dress uniforms before they were to attend their trial. Upon further reflection, perhaps Kirk should have proposed that he and Spock go to the apartment they had previously shared at different times. Perhaps then the shock would not have been so severe for Spock.

Spock’s struggle to remember shone plainly on his face as he took in the décor and mingled personal possessions on display throughout the apartment. With their joined lives so clearly visually evident, one would have to make considerable effort to ignore the obvious conclusion that Kirk and Spock had shared a life together here. Anxiously, Kirk stood back, nearly against one wall, as he watched Spock explore their home. Every so often, Spock would pick up a knick-knack and examine it closer. But he did not seem to recognize some objects, even the ones that he owned and Kirk did not.

As he continued to observe Spock’s exploration of their apartment, Kirk allowed his mind to wander unexpectedly to a time when he did not have the ability to remember his life. While Spock’s situation left him feeling isolated and struggling to remember, Kirk had blissfully been ignorant of the life he couldn’t recall. He’d happily married Miramanee and forgot everything with his true life, his true purpose. He didn’t remember his ship, his crew, Bones, or Spock. They’d worked to exhaustion to bring him home, arriving in time to prevent Kirk from death, but unable to save Miramanee and the child she carried. Spock had melded with him desperately to force him to remember his identity. Kirk not Kirok. When he remembered, when Spock mentally guided him back to awareness, Kirk looked at this life he’d established with Miramanee and recognized it but like an impartial observer. He knew she was his wife, he knew he had been happy with her, but now that he knew himself to be Kirk, that life could never belong to him. Kirok did not command a starship, but Kirk did. In time, Kirk’s time with Miramanee seemed more like a dream he couldn’t quite remember.

Kirk looked at Spock touching the knight on their chessboard when it became clear. Kirk knew precisely how it felt not to remember a life lived, to lose a connection. But Kirk could not use a mindmeld to bring Spock back to him. He wished he could.

“We are bonded,” Spock whispered in the silence of the apartment.

The words surprised Kirk and made his chest tight. “Were,” he corrected, choking on the word.

Spock looked at him, his frown evidently displayed. “Were?”

Kirk nodded, forcing himself to maintain eye contact. “You can’t sense its absence?”

Spock closed his eyes, searching. “I feel…pain. Deep pain.” His frown deepened. “And there is a silence within me.”

Kirk couldn’t do this now. He fled. He strode into their bedroom and went directly to the wardrobe for a clean uniform. He left Spock in the main room. This couldn’t take priority right now. Federation Security waited for him to report to Headquarters. He doubted the Federation Council would be patient much longer. Kirk had to get dressed.

He stripped the clothes he’d worn when he’d stolen his ship, when he’d heard his son killed, when he’d destroyed the _Enterprise_ , when he found Spock’s body on that dying planet and held him close as they beamed aboard the Klingon vessel. Putting on the red dress uniform was worse. He’d worn it as he assumed command of a training mission that should never have been placed on active duty in a crisis. This uniform was the one on his body as he watched his bondmate, his husband, collapse slowly from the ravages of radiation poisoning, helpless to save him, unable to comfort him, and desperate to touch him. Yet they had been separated by a sealed glass door. He’d pulled Spock’s body from that room while in this uniform, cradled him to his chest and wept until exhaustion.

“Why is our bond broken?”

Kirk ruthlessly buried the pain those words inflicted for the sake of duty. He pulled on his dress uniform, uncaring of Spock’s presence. He’d seen him partially clothed before even if Spock couldn’t remember that. “Because I requested it to be.”

“Why?” Spock asked so quietly that Kirk almost missed it. He couldn’t look at Spock. Not now. If he did, he wondered if he’d be able to submit himself to the security escort that awaited him. He left their bedroom and headed to the door, intending to leave. Spock grabbed his upper arm to halt his departure. “Ad—Jim, why would you make such a request?”

Kirk yanked his arm out of Spock’s grasp violently, as the words angrily poured out of him. “Because I couldn’t let you stay with me because of a vow you can’t remember making, of a life you may no longer want!” At Spock’s horror and fear at his response, Kirk deflated with a heavy sigh. “Because even if you never want to or—if you’d prefer not to be—If all we can be is friends from this point on—” _If I’m the only one of us who remembers everything we were to each other…_ “Then that will have to be enough. Until your father even mentioned it possible, to get you back, I never thought I’d ever see you, or hear your voice again, except in my memory or my dreams. As far as I knew, Spock, I lost you that day, forever this time.”

He cleared his throat and ran his tongue across his lips. Spock stared at him in overwhelmed shock. “I’m sorry, I just—” He looked away from Spock and forced himself to calm resignation. “If you’re uncomfortable here with me, we can make arrangements for one of us to go elsewhere.” Somehow he found a sad smile in himself. “Although, depending on the Council’s verdict for what we all did to bring you home, there is a possibility that I may not be living here after all. It might be impossible for us to begin again.” Kirk tried not to laugh bitterly, and managed to huff through his nose instead. “You may not even want to.”

Spock swallowed. “Jim—”

“I could have no future because I came back for you. I did that because I love you, Spock.” His former husband’s gaze fell to the floor. “Even if I had the choice, I would do nothing differently.” Spock immediately found his eyes again, his lips parted in his speechlessness. “Nothing,” Kirk repeated.

“Jim, I—”

Kirk activated the door switch. “I’ll see you at my Judgment Day.” He left the apartment, and submitted himself to Federation Security.

 

He waited off to the side for Spock and Sarek to finish their conversation. “I feel fine.” Kirk’s brows rose in surprise. Spock had never before expressed emotion to his father, never mind used the imprecise word ‘fine’ to describe his feelings.

“Live long and prosper, my son,” Sarek said. A moment later, he departed and Spock turned to Kirk. Without a word, they fell into step with each other and left the Chamber of the Federation Council.

They did not get very far while walking outside before Kirk had to ask, “Why did you face the charges with us?”

Spock did not repeat the answer he gave during the brief trial. “As you left the apartment, I realized that I did not wish you to leave. Or rather, I wished to follow you.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No. I continued to explore your—our living arrangements. While doing so, I believe I remembered something of my past.”

Kirk stopped walking and faced Spock directly. “What did you remember?”

“A basement. Cold, and somewhat dirty. You wore a red and black shirt. A young lady faced me and studied me with her gaze before declaring that I belonged at your side, as if I had always been there and always would be.” Kirk swallowed his emotion at the mention of Edith Keeler. Of all the things that Spock could have remembered. “How could I have known your name before that of anyone else if there were not some validity to her claim? I assume, by the mixture of Terran and Vulcan artifacts in your apartment, that we have been by each other’s side for many years, our lives merged as one.”

Kirk bit his lip and tried to keep his tears at bay. “Yes.”

Spock nodded. “Being there had felt right.”

They did not speak for two blocks.

“I watched as all of you were brought before the Council. You stood there because of me. I could not remain separate from the accusations you faced because you faced those charges in order to restore my life. It did not…feel right. Standing at your side, however, did.”

Spock resumed walking then, giving Kirk no choice but to keep pace. At least Spock chose a sedate stroll rather than a brisk walk. “While I was on Vulcan, my mother often looked in on my re-education.” Kirk smiled fondly as he recalled that Lady Amanda had been a teacher earlier in her life. Her investment in Spock’s re-education probably stemmed from both personal and professional interests. “During one of our last conversations before I boarded your vessel, I informed her that I intended to go to Earth to offer testimony.” Kirk hadn’t known this. “She in turn informed me that I would soon begin to experience emotions and that my feelings due to my human genetics would surface. She cautioned me that I may not understand them.” They turned a corner without discussing their path. Neither fully realized that they were walking towards their apartment. “I do not know how, but I knew I would find no peace or fulfillment had I stayed on Vulcan. Therefore, I decided to accompany you back to Earth.”

Kirk smiled, this time without forcing it. “I’m glad you came with us. We wouldn’t have had a prayer of getting George and Gracie here without you.” He glanced at Spock from the corner of his eye and saw Spock trying to fight a shy grin.

They finished the walk to the apartment in easy silence. Only when they stood in front of the closed door did the tension manifest again. Kirk stopped himself from activating the door, so he could ask, “Would you like to come in?” It sounded absurd to his own ears, asking Spock if he wanted to enter a home that had belonged to both of them for years. Kirk looked at Spock and saw no trace of offense in him.

Spock replied with a sharp nod, but grabbed Kirk’s wrist to stop him from opening the door. “Perhaps one day our lives can again be as intertwined as our possessions are presently.” Kirk heard the hope in Spock’s voice.

“I would like that.”

Spock took a deep breath. “I ask that you are patient with me. I do not seek to offend you when I am distant or hesitant.”

Kirk nodded. “I don’t know if I can live up to a promise like that. But I’ll try to.”

“Similarly, I will attempt to be more communicative.”

“You’re doing fine.”

“I—” Spock lowered his head self-consciously. “I wish I could remember and be what you desire me to be, but it may be—”

“You’re alive,” Kirk said ardently, as he turned to take Spock’s shoulders in his hands. “You’re here with me, Spock. That’s all I could desire you to be. Everything else is secondary.”

Spock shook his head. “But, Jim, my memory—”

 

_“You must let yourselves fall in love all over again,” Lady Amanda advised, on his last visit to her on Vulcan. Kirk could not prevent his tears from escaping. Not anymore. “Do not push him, do not guilt him. I know how frustrating it will be. I have been enduring it since his fal-tor-pan.” She reached out and gently placed her hand on Kirk’s forearm. “Let yourself love Spock again, just as he is now. That’s what drew him to you, your acceptance of him, not your expectations of him.”_

_“What if—”_

_“No, what ifs, Admiral,” she admonished, with a soft smile. “Don’t try to make Spock remember that which he may never be able. Allow yourself to fall in love anew. The most important thing is to build new memories together.”_

_Kirk let his tears fall freely, not even embarrassed by them. He placed his hand over hers and offered her a watery smile. “Thank you.”_

“Your memory is only an obstacle if we make it one,” Kirk insisted. He knew he’d said the right thing as he felt Spock’s tension melt away where he held his shoulders. “So, instead of trying to recapture the past, which was…turbulent to begin with, what do you think of building a brand new future together?”

In answer, Spock activated the door to their home and led Kirk inside.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. This story is a work of fan-fiction and may not be reproduced, archived, or redistributed by any means and in any format without prior written permission. Permission may be obtained by contacting me directly. ~ RK


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